MHA: Reborn with Magneto's powers

Ryoma controlled the iron sand, forcing it to flow out of the villain's broken jaw through his mouth and nose. He had no intention of killing him—though the hospital bill would be another story. The iron sand returned to the capsule pill on Ryoma's belt. The poor metal-masked man that once had a normal working jaw, now fainted by the trauma.

The display was enough to instill fear in the remaining villains, breaking their resistance and will. Faced with the alternative, they willingly gave up the information, desperate to ensure their own survival.

The crucial information Ryoma had extracted from them:

Their plan was to scatter the students, dividing them into different zones of USJ. This was orchestrated by one of their leaders, Kurogiri, who had the ability to warp people to locations he was familiar with. Apparently, Ryoma was the only one sent into the Downpour Storm Zone.

Their main boss was Shigaraki Tomura, the leader of the League of Villains. His Quirk, Decay, allowed him to destroy anything or anyone he touched, crumbling them into dust.

The villains' ultimate goal was to kill the Symbol of Peace, All Might, and shatter the public's faith in heroes and U.A. Academy by murdering innocent students. Their key weapon for this was the monstrous being Ryoma had already encountered—Nomu.

However, the grunts had no real understanding of what Nomu actually was. All they knew was that it was an artificial human with multiple Quirks, specifically designed to counter All Might. Shigaraki had kept the details of its creation a secret from them.

And finally, Ryoma had uncovered the location of the villain responsible for jamming USJ's electromagnetic signals. He was currently in the USJ's control room accompanied by some other villains as well.

Ryoma tried to generate concentrated electromagnetic fields, but they were quickly disrupted immediately. The tiny earpiece he was wearing on his left ear - a communication device made by Momo, didn't work either.

The jammer's quirk had the ability of emitting high frequency radio waves to disrupt electromagnetic waves in a large radius according to them, which seemed to cover the whole facility.

He didn't notice whether Iida had run back to school by No.13's order yet. So his best chance right now was to take down the signal jammer.

Ryoma pressed his palm against the damp concrete, his senses stretching outward as he tuned into the magnetic fields beneath him. A faint hum pulsed through his nerves—steel structures buried under the ground, forming a tunnel pathway. That was his way forward. Instead of taking the risk of facing Nomu and Shigaraki head-on outside, he could use the underground passage to reach the control room undetected.

But before that, there was something far more important to do.

A test.

This was the perfect opportunity—no bystanders to argue about ethics, no heroes to pull him back. Just him and a few criminals who, by law, had already forfeited their rights to mercy the moment they attacked teachers and students of U.A. .Anything he did to them would be justified as self-defense.

The villains watched warily as Ryoma stood still, his fingers flexing slightly. Then, the air shifted.

At first, it was subtle. A faint static hum filled their ears, barely noticeable over the sound of rain. Then, tingling—like their limbs had fallen asleep. Fingers trembled involuntarily. One man winced, shaking his hand as if to get rid of an invisible itch. Another blinked rapidly, struggling to focus.

Then, the horror began.

A sharp convulsion seized one of them—the man's muscles locked up, his body shuddering as if an unseen force had wrapped around his spine and squeezed. He collapsed, mouth opening in a silent scream, his brain betraying his body, refusing to obey. Another staggered backward, his breath hitching, hands clenching into claws as his nervous system overloaded, firing erratic, meaningless signals. His vision flickered—darkness, light, darkness, light—like a dying bulb.

Then they dropped, one by one. Some spasmed violently, limbs jerking as if they were puppets with their strings slashed. Others simply froze, their eyes wide, their minds awake but their bodies completely paralyzed, trapped inside a husk that would not respond.

Until there was only one left.

He stood trembling, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. His eyes darted wildly between his fallen comrades and Ryoma—who, at that moment, was shaking in exhilaration.

"Hah....hahahaha."

Ryoma laughed.

A small, breathy sound at first. Then a quiet, trembling chuckle, completely breaking his usual character of being a calm, calculated individual– No, he was still calculated and sane. But at that moment, he couldn't deny the satisfaction escalated by these feelings for his outstanding success.

His lips curled into something between a grin and a smirk as he lifted a hand, watching his fingers flex in pure joy.

Pure excitement.

Pure obsession.

'Faraday's Law of Induction(simplified version): The fluctuation of magnetic field induces an electric current in a conductor.

Here, the conductors were none other than the neurons inside their brains.

And. It. Fucking. Worked!!!', Ryoma thought as his lips formed a full deranged smile.

By rapidly altering the magnetic field within their skulls, Ryoma created electricity inside their brains that forced their neurons to fire erratically—overloading their nervous systems. Some suffered violent seizures, their bodies convulsing beyond their control. Others shut down entirely, leaving them frozen, trapped in a silent, conscious nightmare.

"W-WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

The last conscious villain screamed, his voice raw with terror. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps as he trembled. His wide, bloodshot eyes darted between the unmoving bodies of his comrades and the boy standing before him—the boy who had reached into their skulls without touching them and left them as nothing more than puppets with cut strings.

He wanted to run. He needed to run.

But he couldn't. He was restrained. His joints were dislocated earlier. He was hopeless.

The moment his body twitched, Ryoma raised his hand.

The air around them thrummed.

A low, vibrating hum filled the space, the unseen force of shifting magnetism warping around them. The metal bindings wrapped around the villain's dislocated arms and legs suddenly jerked, no longer bound to gravity. His body lurched upward and floated.

He thrashed in midair, struggling against the invisible pull, but it was useless—his arms snapped to his sides, his legs locked together as if he were caught in the grip of an unseen giant. The only thing he could move was his mouth which Ryoma promptly shut it up.

A metal panel—ripped from the broken remains of some villain's discarded weapon—shot forward and clamped over his mouth, muffling his cries. He let out a muffled, panicked whimper, his eyes darting wildly as he twisted uselessly against the unseen force.

Ryoma stared at him for a moment. He had already extracted the information he needed from the others, but he wasn't foolish enough to take their words at face value right away.

Without another word, Ryoma turned his gaze downward, pressing his hand against the damp concrete once more.

A deep, thrumming vibration resonated through the ground, faint at first—then stronger, more forceful, rippling through the earth like an unseen heartbeat. The ground groaned. Cracks webbed out from his palm, jagged fissures splitting apart the soaked concrete.

Then, the earth broke open. Tiny metallic fragments—iron pulled from the very minerals within the soil—floated upward, tearing their way through the earth.

The soil churned and cracked apart under his command. The vibrations faded, leaving only the jagged, gaping hole before him, revealing the steel outer surface of the hidden tunnel beneath USJ.

With his new captive still levitating at his side, Ryoma stepped forward—descending into the darkness.

______________

*Flashback some months ago*

At the underground training room, Ryoma sat on the cold steel floor, sleeves rolled up, while Momo stood before him, arms crossed, her brows furrowed in deep concern.

"You want me to make an anesthetic?" she asked, skepticism heavy in her voice.

Ryoma met her gaze with his usual calm expression, though his mind was racing with anticipation. "For an experiment," he answered. "I need a weak dose—just enough to paralyze my arms and legs temporarily, while keeping my brain unaffected."

Momo sighed. "Please explain your reasons in full detail before it's too late for me to regret helping in another crazy idea of yours."

Ryoma exhaled slowly, already prepared for her opposition. "My Quirk is rooted in electromagnetism. I can manipulate ferromagnetic materials and control electric currents in circuits. But I suspect I can go beyond that—manipulating biological electricity."

Momo's lips pressed into a thin line. "You mean… the signals in the nervous system?"

Ryoma nodded. "Neurons use electrical impulses to communicate with muscles. If I can generate the right electrical currents using my Quirk, I should be able to override the signals in my limbs, even if they're naturally blocked."

Momo's expression darkened. "So you're saying you'll force your body to move even when it's supposed to be paralyzed? Ryoma, that's dangerous! What if you damage your nerves permanently? What if you overheat your muscles and tear them apart?!"

Ryoma remained unfazed. "I've already considered the risks," he assured her. "That's why I need the right dose—not too strong, not too weak. Controlled conditions." He gestured around them. "There's no safer place to test this than here. If something goes wrong, you'll be here to intervene."

Momo shook her head. "No. This isn't just reckless—it's unethical. I understand exploring the limits of your Quirk, but this? This is dangerous, even for you."

Ryoma leaned forward slightly. "Think about the potential, Momo. If I can refine this ability, I could help people who have lost motor function—paraplegics, stroke victims, anyone suffering from nerve damage. It's beyond just combat applications."

Momo studied him for a long moment, her arms still crossed, her internal battle evident. Then, reluctantly, she sighed. "Fine. But only because I'll be monitoring everything. And if I say stop, you stop immediately. Got it?"

Ryoma smirked slightly. "This is your house, you're the boss."

___________

With the anesthetic prepared, Momo carefully injected Ryoma's arm, ensuring the dosage was just enough to block voluntary movement. Within minutes, Ryoma's limbs went completely limp. His arms and legs felt like they had disconnected from his body—still attached, but utterly unresponsive.

Momo knelt beside him, watching for signs of distress. "You can still feel everything, right? No dizziness?"

Ryoma exhaled slowly. "I'm good. And I'm concentrating right now."

He closed his eyes, focusing on the magnetic fields around him. Every electrical impulse in the human body created a corresponding magnetic field—subtle, invisible, but present. By adjusting his own electromagnetic output, he could generate induced currents inside his own nerves, bypassing the chemical signals that had been shut down by the anesthetic.

A faint hum filled the air. Momo's breath hitched as she saw his fingers tremble, then curl inward—jerky, unnatural movements, like a marionette's strings being pulled. His wrist spasmed before settling into a slow, controlled flex.

His hand lifted off the chair, stiff and mechanical. His arm followed, but the motion wasn't smooth—it was staggered, twitching as if his muscles were resisting the artificial control. His fingers stretched, then clenched into a fist.

Momo's heart pounded. "Ryoma, stop."

But he didn't. His legs twitched violently, the left one jerking forward before he managed to balance it. He stood—not naturally, but with a deliberate, forced rigidity, like something out of a horror film.

His voice came strained. "It's… working."

Momo's hands balled into fists. "That doesn't mean it's safe! You look like a malfunctioning robot!"

Ryoma's body wavered. His movements were too precise, too calculated—there was no subconscious adjustment, no natural weight distribution. He felt his calves tightening, muscles contracting harder than they should. Pain flared up his spine. His breathing quickened.

Then, his body seized up.

His legs locked, his back stiffened—he collapsed forward. Momo lunged, catching him before he hit the ground. His limbs were trembling violently, his muscles spasming like they had been overloaded.

"Thanks…" Ryoma gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. "I… overcharged the signals…"

Momo held him up, eyes filled with barely restrained fury. "I told you this was dangerous! Your body isn't meant to be controlled like a machine!"

Ryoma let out a breathless chuckle, even as he struggled to regain control. "But it's possible." His fingers twitched weakly. "It's just… not perfect yet."

Momo glared at him, anger and concern battling in her expression. "You're going to kill yourself one day if you keep this up."

Ryoma exhaled sharply, finally surrendering to the fatigue. His muscles were still in spasm, his nerves overloaded—but his mind was racing.

'What about the neurons in the brain, I wonder?'

*End of flashback*

_________________________________

Ryoma moved swiftly through the underground tunnel, his steps silent as he neared the control room's entrance. The stale air was thick with dust, the dim emergency lighting casting long shadows across the metallic walls. His breathing had grown heavier, a sharp contrast to his usual controlled demeanor.

He was exhausted as the result of stretching his Quirk beyond its normal limits. But what had drained him the most was his earlier experiment of shutting the brains of a group of villains.

That level of precision at microscopic/cellular control, demanded an immense amount of mental effort. And now, it was catching up to him.

His magnetic field flickered, unstable. He clenched his fists. Not now.

Pushing forward, he reached the control room door. He didn't bother with subtlety. With a wave of his hand, the steel hinges snapped apart, and the door slammed inward, crashing against the floor.

Inside, three villains turned in shock.

"Welp, thanks for the honesty of you and your friends.", Ryoma said to the captured villain that he brought with him earlier for the confirmation of their information.

As that guy was out of use, Ryoma used magnetism to launch him at his three comrades in the room.

"The hell—?!" one of them shouted, got hit by the guy Ryoma launched like a cannonball.

Ryoma lashed out instantly, surrounding metallic objects of the control room wrapped around their limbs, binding them in place.

He exhaled, sweat dripping down his temple. His control was flawed. One guy had escaped in time before the metals reached him.

The last man standing, the signal jammer with the grotesque mutation Quirk—a miniature radio tower protruding from his back, emitting radio waves damping the entire USJ's communication.

Noticing that Ryoma's quirk affected metals, he quickly threw away his knife and watch.

"Die you piece of shit!!", he launched at Ryoma with a swinging punch.

Ryoma barely had time to process before a fist came crashing toward his face. He dodged—but barely. The air whistled past his face as he twisted his body to the side, trying to regain his balance. Even though he was wearing a helmet, he didn't want any risk at all.

His Quirk was too drained. His magnetic control was flickering, unstable. He had to fight—without it.

So be it.

Ryoma took a few steps back to gain distance. This signal jammer villain, to his surprise, was a big man, possibly at a heavier weight class than him. He took off his costume's cape and threw it away temporarily. Ready for hand to hand combat.

The villain, emboldened by Ryoma's apparent exhaustion, swung again—a wild, desperate hook.

Ryoma reacted instantly. Ducking under the punch, he snapped out an oblique kick to the man's left kneecap.

CRACK.

"AARGH!!" the villain groaned, stumbling as his knee hyperextended slightly, pain shooting up his leg.

Ryoma didn't linger. He retreated, creating distance, his sharp gaze locked onto the man, analyzing his stance.

The villain hesitated for a fraction of a second. That was all Ryoma needed.

A low kick to the left calf.

The villain barely had time to process it before a teep kick smashed into his stomach, forcing him backward.

Then Ryoma unleashed combos.

A quick jab.

A second low kick.

Another jab to the face—then a clean cross to the jaw.

And another low kick

Each strike flowed seamlessly into the next, a relentless rhythm of speed, power and precision.

The villain's face was already a mess, blood dripping from small cuts inflicted by Ryoma's precise strikes. His left leg trembled, struggling to support his weight as the repeated low kicks pummeled his calf into uselessness.

Desperate, he charged.

Using his heavier frame, he planned to take Ryoma down by force, a last-ditch effort to overpower him.

But Ryoma sidestepped at the last moment—and as the villain lunged past him, Ryoma's left hook exploded against his jaw.

A sickening THUD.

The villain's head snapped to the side, his footing lost—and that's when Ryoma struck the final blow.

A seamless double-leg takedown.

With perfect technique, he drove the man into the ground, pinning him beneath his body weight. Before the villain could resist, Ryoma rained down brutal 12-6 elbows on his face.

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

Bone met flesh. Blood sprayed onto the cold floor.

The villain's muffled grunts turned into panicked screams.

But Ryoma wasn't finished.

Like a predator coiling around its prey, he smoothly transitioned—his legs snapping around the villain's arm.

An armbar.

The villain's face twisted in agony. His free hand flailed, tapping frantically against Ryoma's leg.

"I SURRENDER!! I SURRENDER!!! JUST FUCKING STOP—AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"

Ryoma broke his arm's joint.

As the villain's agonized screams faded into unconscious whimpers, his body finally gave out—his muscles slackened beneath Ryoma's grip, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The grotesque mini radio tower protruding from the villain's back flickered—its once-steady pulses of electromagnetic interference now failing, like a dying signal. The metallic-looking spires twitched, their biological circuits disrupted.

Then, with an eerie finality, the entire structure dimmed and collapsed inward, retracting slightly into his back.

Ryoma, breathing heavily, pressing a finger against his earpiece.

"Momo, do you copy?"

A sharp crackle of static. Then—

"Ryoma?! Oh my goodness what happened?! We suddenly got our signal back!"

Ryoma exhaled, shaking off the lingering fatigue. "I took down the jammer in the control room. You good? Is there anyone else with you?"

Momo's voice came through clearer now:

"I'm with Jirou and Kaminari . We just finished dealing with a bunch of villains at the Mountain Zone.".

Ryoma stopped for a moment then replied: "Stay cautious, do not go outside of your zone and call for the heroes and police."

"What about everyone else? And our teachers too? And how did you end up in the control room? Aren't you supposed to get teleported to other zones like us?", Momo bombarded with questions.

"Momo, listen to me, I faced that "thing" earlier. It's their weapon. A Nomu... It took down No.13 sensei with one punch. I almost got killed if not thanks to sheer luck and the save from our classmates..... I don't know what happened next because that Blacksmoke guy warped me to the Storm Zone but I think Aizawa sensei should be dealing with both of them right now.... Don't be rash.", Ryoma explained with heavy breathes.

___________________________

At the Central Plaza, chaos reigned.

Aizawa lay battered on the cracked pavement, his body barely responding as Nomu loomed over him like a monstrous executioner. Blood dripped from his temple, blurring his vision, but he could still see the mangled remains of his capture weapon—decayed into dust in an instant.

Crack. Crack.

"Hnnn!" Aizawa gritted his teeth, biting back a scream as Nomu twisted his arm at an unnatural angle, snapping it like a dry twig.

Shigaraki crouched beside him, his fingers twitching with excitement. "You can erase quirks. A respectable ability," he mused, voice light but dripping with condescension. "But there's nothing to it in the end. When faced with overwhelming strength, you might as well be quirkless."

Nomu let out a guttural growl before gripping Aizawa's other arm.

CRACK.

"Gwaaah!!!"

Aizawa's vision blurred with pain, and before he could even react, Nomu grabbed his head and slammed his face into the concrete. Dust and blood smeared across the shattered ground.

Across the battlefield, hidden in the Flood Zone, Midoriya, Asui, and Tokoyami could only watch in horror.

Aizawa wasn't moving anymore.

"Shigaraki Tomura," Kurogiri's deep voice cut through the air. "I'm afraid the students I couldn't scatter impeded me. Therefore, No. 13 was saved by them... And a student with a speed-engine Quirk managed to escape first to call for reinforcements."

Shigaraki's fingers twitched faster, his distorted breathing hitching.

"Huuuuhh—Huuuhhh—"

He hunched over slightly, like a child sulking. "Kurogiri, if you can't be a proper warp gate, then our plan's crumbled. There's no doubt that if they throw a bunch of pros at us, then it's game over. Ahhh, it's game over... for now."

His shoulders tensed, but then his posture shifted abruptly. His head snapped up.

"Actually, before we hop back…"

His entire body blurred into a sprint, a violent burst of movement sending him tearing toward Midoriya's group.

"Why don't we use this opportunity—"

In an instant, his decayed, skeletal fingers were inches from Asui's face.

"—To take the Symbol of Peace's pride down a notch!!!"

Asui gasped.

His fingertips brushed against her skin—

But nothing happened.

Shigaraki's eyes widened.

Aizawa, through sheer willpower, had lifted his bloodied face just enough—

His quirk still active.

Shigaraki froze. For a brief moment, his expression wasn't frustration—it was something else. Respect.

"You really are cool… Eraserhead."

Midoriya's body moved on instinct.

"Le..Let go of her!!!!"

He swung his fist forward with all his might.

Tokoyami reacted instantly—Dark Shadow lashed out, gripping Asui and yanking her backward, out of Shigaraki's grasp.

SMASH!!!

A deafening collision.

Midoriya's heart dropped as the dust settled—his fist had landed, but not on Shigaraki.

Instead, Nomu stood in front of him, arm raised, completely unharmed.

Midoriya's eyes widened in horror. His strongest punch, his full-powered Smash...did nothing.

Shigaraki tilted his head. A slow, mocking grin spread across his lips.

"Nice punch there. You called it 'Smash'… All Might's fan? Well, whatever, brat."

Midoriya barely had time to process before Nomu's massive hand clamped down on his arm.

A surge of pain shot through him. His bones felt like they were seconds from snapping—just like Aizawa's.

The situation was spiraling into true catastrophe.

And then—

BOOM.

The entrance doors slammed open, nearly flying off their hinges.

A broad-shouldered figure strode in, muscles flexing.

A voice, deep and resolute, cut through the battlefield.

"Have no fear."

Shigaraki's entire body stiffened.

Midoriya's breath caught in his throat.

"For I AM HERE."

All Might had arrived. His usual smile was no longer on his face. Instead, it was a sharp and clear anger.

"Speaking of the devil.", Shigaraki grinned.